


Big Sister; Little Brother

by IAmWhelmed



Series: Origami Birds [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Son of Batman (2014), Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Has Friends, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne-centric, Detective Conan AU, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Chronological, Sibling Love, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24779551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmWhelmed/pseuds/IAmWhelmed
Summary: Damian has his memories back, and becomes acquainted with a new host of problems and fears. If he's a failure as Damian, he has to try his best to not be a failure as Chris. His adopted sister, Liv, carries him to bed.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne & Original Character(s), Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Series: Origami Birds [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786054
Comments: 11
Kudos: 91





	Big Sister; Little Brother

Having his memories back… hurt, a lot of the time. Lying to Liv and Bolvin, remembering to respond to Christian and not Damian, feeling Liv’s warm arms around him and praying to whatever god there may be that he never had to leave, it all hurt sometimes-- a lot of times. He wondered if Liv would still love him if she knew that there was blood on his hands. He wondered if she’d think he was just as much a monster as the murderers he and Abner put away, and if her love was truly as unconditional as he’d always hoped it was, even before he regained his memories. His mother’s love had always been conditional, and he’d never even had his father’s love to draw the conclusion that there were any conditions he could match to get into such good graces. Liv, though, she’d taken one look at him, stupid, sad, scared, sitting in a station with bruises and matted, bloody hair, and she’d loved him. She’d given him the name of the writer she loved most, Christian after Agatha Christie, and held his hand when they walked together and never let go. She made him brush his teeth before bed, and she’d check on him at night when she thought he was asleep, when he rarely ever was, and he’d feel her tuck the sheets around his body and brush the hair out of his face, and best of all, she’d kiss him.

He’d never expected to like physical contact, and he probably wouldn’t have if he’d never lost his memories, but the time in which he hadn’t remembered he’d hated hugs and kisses and pats on the head, she’d made Christian a needy little brat. He fought against it, now that he had his memories back, but he still couldn’t resist leaning up to give her a hug when he said goodnight, or leaning into her when she’d press a good morning kiss to his head. His mother would be so disappointed. Drake and Todd would have a field day. Jon would never have let it go-- but none of that mattered anyway. Nobody had come looking for him, so they’d never know how he craved Liv’s fingers running through his hair as he laid in her lap, and he’d never have to go back to Gotham and leave the only person who had ever loved him behind.

That was why he had to keep the Damian part of him under wraps. She couldn’t know how bloodthirsty he was, how he’d snapped necks with his bare hands and drove swords through the hearts of his own men in training. He feared she’d look at him the way Grayson and Drake did, the way Pennyworth did, the way father could hardly hide behind that bat cowl and glare. He knew Damian Al Ghul was a murderous weapon that couldn’t even do a good job of that. No matter what he did, Father had never looked at him the way Liv did, the way he looked at his other little birds. He’d always fail, always do something wrong, get yelled at, get benched, be _hated_. He could only hope that, as Christian Tathum, he could finally get things right. If he just kept a lid on his abilities, if he just put criminal after criminal away to make up for the ones he’d left bleeding out on a dark warehouse floor in Gotham, maybe he’d redeem himself. So far, his actions had earned him the trust of the Bayard and Caedmon Police Departments, the friendship and establishment of The Detective Boys, and the awe of his classmates. He’d even somehow found himself a friend in a High School Detective Bentley Stück, the darling of Caedmon City and Annoyance Extraordinaire, who’d decided that Damian Wayne was going to be his best friend (so far, he’d been right). He told himself that he’d earned those things, but then he’d see Father’s livid face, or Drake’s scorn, or Grayson’s disappointment, and it felt like he’d lied to all of them, and he didn’t understand, he’d never understood, and he was confused and it hurt, he just wanted to be good. That was what he was supposed to be.

What was to say that, one day, he wouldn’t fail? He could throw the wrong suspect away, lose his temper and hurt someone, solve the case, but not soon enough, and lose somebody he lo-- the thought was too arduous. Would the kids no longer call out to him when they got scared, with Lucie’s hands at his arm and Emrik and Clement trembling on either side of him? Would Johanna and her father see him for what he was and cast him off as a lost cause? Would Abner still care when he got himself taken hostage (like a fool) when they took a case? Would Liv retreat into herself, avoid him, never touch him, because he was a monster? Would Bentley, the closest thing he had to a brother, a loving, protective, caring brother, see that Damian Wayne wasn’t the mystery he’d been promised, and certainly not the conclusion he’d hoped? Would the hair ruffles stop, and the late night playing video games with the kids and the dinners with Liv and Abner as a family-- would they all disappear in a cloud of smoke before he could even properly visualize it? His eyes burned uncomfortably at the thought, and he tried to pretend he didn’t feel that, because that was weakness, and even as Chris, there was no excuse for weakness.

“Christian?” He hummed, and turned his head as Liv’s hand brushed the bone of his cheek. She was leaning over him, her long hair falling in gracing curtains beside his face as he twisted in her lap. She was smiling down at him, eyes filled with the exact look he’d always wanted from Father, from Mother. There was a small smile on her face. He couldn’t hear the television anymore, but he could still see its light reflecting off the smooth skin of his sister’s face. “It’s late. C’mon, let’s get you to bed, little one.” He groaned and she laughed to herself. Her hands brushed away the two tears trailing the corners of his weary eyes, and he knew she’d mistaken them for the kind that came with a yawn. “You have school tomorrow.” He said nothing, only moaned. He was so tired, so very tired, and as Christian, he could let himself bow to the heaviness that overcame him.

He felt her arms curl under him, one hand brushing the back of his neck so she could rest his head on her shoulder. She was moving, and when she stood, he could feel the sturdy cushion of the couch and her legs leave from him. She began the trek to his room, cradling him to her chest, so he could feel the evenness of her breathing and the steady beat of her heart against the pulsing blood in his head as he let himself rest. The Damian in him said he should throw a fit, inform her that he could walk himself, that he wasn’t a baby, but Liv nuzzled him and the Christian in him won.

She set him on his bed a moment later, resting his head against his pillow before she lifted the covers out from under him and tucked him in. He hummed as she kissed his temple, the way he’d never known he’d been missing. “Goodnight, Chris.”


End file.
